


Tuning In

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: Bad ending Au, Brotherhood, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 01:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12332559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: No one really questions why Harley doesn't live with his parents. That's probably a good thing.





	Tuning In

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best work, but it feels nice to finish something. This might end up a series of short fics about bad endings.... This particular piece is about what if Marshall couldn't bring Simon back with the universal remote.

“Good afternoon Harley.”

“Good afternoon Mr. Radford,” Harley replied, hopping up onto the stool and putting his arms on the table. Harley likes the World O’ Stuff, it always feels warm and comfortable on the inside. Like how hot chocolate tastes, or how rain on a hot sidewalk smells. “Marshall is just finishing up. He’ll be ready soon.” He said, cleaning the inside of a glass with a rag.

“Thank you.” He said.

“Have the two of you got plans for this evening?” He asked. Harley nodded yes.

“We’re going to see the new Corn Critters film.”

“What part are they up to now?”

“It’s a prequel.”

“Oh, I see. I never understood them myself. Why go a see a movie that you already know the ending too?”  No one goes to see Corn Critter films because of the story, but he doesn’t say that out loud.

“To see how the plot gets there?” Before Mr. Radford can reply, Marshall staggers in from the basement, carrying an alligator skin handbag that seemed to be made from a whole alligator. He hoped that the duct tape around its mouth was a gag and that Marshall was not holding a deadly creature.

 

“Mister Radford, where do you want this?”

“On the back shelf, you might need to get the stool.”

“Alright-y then,” Marshall mumbled, lugging the beast over to the back of the room. As much as he tried to hide it, Harley knew Mr. Radford wasn’t really thinking about retiring, and he wasn’t, training Marshall to take over for him; he’d only given Marshall the job so he could take care of Harley. And possibly because of the part he’d played in Simon’s disappearance, that was yet to be seen. If Marshall knows, then he’d die before acknowledging it.

Harley doesn’t think about Simon as much as he should. But it was hard to when he hasn’t been around since he was three. He’s pretty sure most people don’t remember much about being three, well. He was no different. He isn’t sure if what he remembers about Simon is an actual memory, stories Marshall has told him, or just things he saw in pictures. It’s sad, yes, but the truth.

Marshall reappeared by the counter. It seemed like being able to mysteriously show up places was an important part of learning to run the World O’ Stuff.

“Did you have a good day at school?” He asked as he started to put the lid on a jar of something under the counter. Sheepishly, Harley put a pink slip on the table. Marshall looked at it, then at him.  “I’ll take that as a no.” He mumbled, shaking his head. Harley feels. Well. Bad. He doesn’t like disappointing Marshall, but then again, he also doesn’t much like being made fun of. 

“Sorry.”

“You said that last time. And the time before that.”  Marshall said, but unlike how Harley remembered his father reacting, he doesn’t look angry. Just sad. He picked up the slip and read it over, and then tucked it away into his pocket, probably because it wasn’t that long ago Marshall was a kid getting pink slips and he knew if he gave it back it would vanish.

Mr. Radford clapped him on the shoulder.

“I think that’s it for today Marshall. Wouldn’t want to miss that movie. Corn what-sit-s.” For a terrifying moment, Harley thinks Marshall might say that they weren’t going. Instead, he reaches behind his neck, and takes off his apron.

“Thanks Mister Radford.” Harley notices not for the first time that Marshall says Mister Radford as though it was all his name, not a title and a name.

They walk to the theater, because Marshall does not have a car.

“You need to stop fighting, Harley.” He said, as they walked. Marshall makes not standing on any cracks effortless. Harley makes an effort to stand on as many as he can, just to be contrary. “If someone looks into where you live, they’ll take you away from me.”

“I know.” He murmured, being sure to avoid a flower growing up in the concrete. “But they were being dickheads, and being horrible.”

“Maybe so, but you still shouldn’t fight them.” Harley resists the urge to point out that Marshall has been involved in no less than seven physical fights with Dash X. “I know that it’s not helpful but do your best to ignore them.”

“I do, mostly.”

“And I appreciate that. Just…It needs to be all the time, kid.”

“But they were saying things about you.”

“Me?”

“Mean stuff. That you’re weird and gay.”

“Weird and gay?”

“Mmhmm.” Marshall knelt down in front of him, and put one hand on Harley’s shoulder. His face looked more serious than it usually did.

Harley has never known Marshall to be a happy person. At least, not as far as he can remember, and he’s seen Marshall almost every day since he was three and a half. Mostly Marshall just seemed…Sad. Tired. He can really count on one hand how many times Marshall has seemed genuinely happy. But for whatever it was worth, being unhappy had never stopped Marshall from being a damn good brother. Not just for the five years that Harley has been living with him but before that as well. Marshall always made time to go to assemblies or the one school play Harley had been in. It was Marshall who organized his few birthday parties, and packed his lunch. Marshall who gave up going to college in order to be there for him. Harley supposes any or all of those are reasons to be grim.

“You shouldn’t fight with them. Do I look bothered that they called me weird and gay?”

“No.”

“Then you shouldn’t be, either.”

“It’s hard. I don’t like when people insult you.”

“I don’t like when people insult me either, but look at it like this. I am weird.”

“You aren’t.”

“Today at work, I carried a suitcase made out of a whole alligator. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Yeah…”

“And even if I am gay, do you think that being gay is bad?”

“No…”

“Then me being called gay and weird isn’t an insult, and it isn’t worth getting into so much trouble over.” Harley wasn’t convinced, but he could see where Marshall was coming from. They turned the corner to the cinema. There was no queue to get their tickets, and Harley ended up with a medium popcorn. Marshall passed, quoting that he wasn’t hungry, but with that look that means that there isn’t enough money. Harley resolved to share his popcorn instead.

They got home late, having stopped at the Teller house for dinner. Edgar gave them a lift home, since Marylin didn’t want them walking in the dark. In a town like Eerie, Harley doesn’t blame her. They lived in a tiny, one bedroom studio apartment on the edge of town. The bedroom belongs to Harley. Marshall sleeps in the living room. It’s cramped, crowded and the kitchen only half works but its ten times more of a home then living with his parents ever was.

Marshall usually stopped in to say goodnight at the time that he thought it was appropriate for Harley to go to sleep. Mostly, he’s reasonable. He stood at the door for several moments, with a weird look on his face. He walked in and sat on the bed, where Harley was reading for a class assignment. Ten years today, from the last time he saw his brother. Marshall knew it, he knew it. Both of them just pretended they didn’t.

“Do you know what happened to him?” Harley asked softly. Marshall looked conflicted, then nodded.  “Did you have something to do with it?” Another nod. Harley didn’t like how it felt to have his suspicions confirmed. “Is he dead?”

“You wouldn’t ask that if you thought he was.”

“Will I ever see him again?” Marshall stood, and put a hand on Harley’s shoulder.

“Don’t stay up too late.” He said, finally. Harley wants more answers, but Marshall won’t give them to him. He slept fitfully.

…

Marshall walked to the living room and collapsed onto the fold-out chair that served for his mattress. He’d known Harley would start to ask questions some day but now he was…Mostly Marshall was frightened. Asking questions in Eerie only led to trouble. But for tonight, Harley is here, and he’s safe. That has to be enough. 

He turned on the tv, and it played weird looking static. He picked up the universal tuner from the drawer to his left and started to work on tuning it. He’d figured out how to make the television into a temporary portal, it couldn’t be crossed through, but it could tune in. Now he just had to find Simon. 

He's not going to sit around for a hundred years.

 


End file.
